


Lazy Day, Sunday Afternoon

by lilferret



Category: Torchwood
Genre: Humor, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-12
Updated: 2012-08-12
Packaged: 2017-11-12 00:21:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 247
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/484551
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lilferret/pseuds/lilferret
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jack is forever learning something new.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lazy Day, Sunday Afternoon

**Author's Note:**

> **Disclaimer:** All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

Jack lifted the utensil and frowned. “Ianto, what is this?”

“That would be a spork, sir.”

Putting the item back down on the table, Jack quirked an eyebrow at the man sitting across from him. “And exactly what is a…spork?”

Ianto matched eyebrow with eyebrow. “Surely you’ve lived on Earth long enough to have used a spork.”

“Evidently, I’ve been hanging around with the wrong crowds. Where did you even find this?” He picked it up again, turning it around slowly in his fingers.

“Many places have them. Tesco, for instance.”

“Is it a spoon or a fork?”

“It’s both, sir,” Ianto informed him, tucking a serviette into his collar and picking up his own utensil. He stabbed a piece of roast and brought it to his mouth, chewing thoughtfully.

Jack watched him for a moment, pursing his lips. He then copied the move and his eyes widened as he held the piece of meat aloft. “Huh. What an invention.”

“You can also use it with liquids,” Ianto said, having swallowed his food. He placed the spork back down. “Soup, for example.”

“No kidding?”

“Absolutely not.” Ianto smiled.

Jack pulled the meat off the spork with a finger, not catching the frown from across Ianto’s table. He then dipped the utensil into the gravy on his plate and watched as it didn’t fall off. He grinned.

“Plastic sporks with Sunday roast. You’re a fascinating man, Ianto Jones.”

Jack winked and Ianto blushed. 

“I do try, sir.”


End file.
